


The Lessons They Paid For

by brightephemera



Series: Leif Surana [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Archdemons (Dragon Age), Dragon Age: Origins Quest - The Battle of Denerim, Gen, Grey Wardens, Mentors, Post-Dragon Age: Origins Quest - The Landsmeet, background surana/leliana
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:47:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26779120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightephemera/pseuds/brightephemera
Summary: Leif Surana was as surprised as anyone at the recruitment of the Wardens’ bitter enemy. But with the darkspawn horde surging toward the next human fortress, the veterans must learn to work together—and show each other what it means to be a Grey Warden. (Setting: Original Campaign, Landsmeet-Endgame)
Relationships: Loghain Mac Tir & Female Surana, Loghain Mac Tir & Warden
Series: Leif Surana [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1954573
Kudos: 6





	1. The Road To Redcliffe

### Day 1

It was as Loghain Mac Tir sprinted in full plate armor to shove his shield using paralyzed arm and good together to break Leif’s rib that she started thinking this man could be useful.

It had been a long day. Leif had arranged everything. Warden Alistair the bastard son of a King, and Queen Anora the widow of another, would wed, and in taking Ferelden Alistair would finally have something suitably vast for his heart to beat for. Leif was happy for him. The only person objecting was Loghain, and Loghain had gone and demanded a duel in front of the whole Landsmeet.

So under the eyes of the banns and arls of Ferelden Leif took one bad hit. With her ribs groaning she planted her staff and beamed fire inside Loghain’s shoulder guards. Not enough to kill him, probably, assuming he had the sense to yield. Few men would endure this. Leif toasted. She had united four disparate peoples against the Blight that menaced this country, and she would not be stopped by one grasping regent.

Even if he was really good at what he did.

Loghain leaned forward. Something bit her side. His sword arm flexed and thrust again. Apparently fire, like paralysis, was not a discouragement for him. Breathing past the pain she shoved him back as far as her abilities would allow. He took a Templar’s stance. It seemed he knew the motions of a mage hunter. But he was not one himself.

She thrust his sword back with a blast of ice from her staff. She hurried, willing herself to stay standing around the pain. Electricity? He touched a corner of his tower shield to the ground, conducting the attack away, and waited for her to finish. Then strode and swung. She had to use raw force to reduce it from a neck slash to a shoulder wound. This time she jumped back from his shield’s counter swing.

Not a Templar? He might as well be.

She shoved him back. For a moment his shield guard slanted to one side. She stunned his legs and adjusted her stance to minimize her own pain. She could cast spells just as well from her knees, but she wouldn’t give Loghain the satisfaction.

His legs were paralyzed. He planted his shield on the flagstones, pulled himself toward Leif, then planted the shield a little closer, and pulled. The son of a bitch would not stop.

And he would die thinking he was right, if she ended him like this.

She gave him ice to the face, lancing through his slotted visor as best she could. Painful, not lethal. She slammed his weapon arm with more. He didn’t let go. She tried again. His sword fell. He grunted and kept on with his shield. Did he expect to take her on with his clawed fists? She ran in and tore his helmet off.

Faster than thought he surged to grasp her foot with his spiked gauntlet and wrench. She cried out and went down. She threw his helmet back at his head and was satisfied at least to get the thump.

His sword lay between them and she scrambled to it first. She forced herself up on her good leg and brought his own blade to his throat. He looked at her with hate beyond comprehension.

“Yield,” she shouted at his red-striped face. Blood was sloshing about her belt. “Yield or die.”

Please, she thought, yield. She needed a bastard like this against the Blight. How many people in this country could almost kill her one on one?

The banns and arls of the Landsmeet watched from their galleries. Leif trembled in wait.

“I yield,” said Loghain from the floor, with pride and dignity undimmed. Oh, yes. If she wanted a defender for Ferelden, she had the most fanatical one alive right here.

“On your knees.” She held the sword at his throat until he complied. He did move stiffly. Maybe the fire had done something.

She tossed the sword aside and leaned on her staff. Her foot hurt. Her knee hurt. Her sides hurt. Her ribs hurt. She had to be flawless for these people.

Her friends had gathered in a knot, ready to strike at Loghain’s people should they refuse to surrender. All of her friends, and most of all…

“Kill him, Leif,” said Alistair, his voice passionately thick. “It’s justice.”

Leif never took her eyes off the defeated man. “Loghain Mac Tir,” she said. It took most of her will to project her voice. “I hereby conscript you for the Grey Wardens.”

“ _What_?” It was Alistair. She closed her eyes and waited for the cloudburst. “You’re not serious.”

Her every nerve witnessed the practicality of it. Oh, Loghain was vile and he had opposed and hunted the Grey Wardens for as long as Leif had been one. But he would be a great weapon. “The Archdemon is coming and I don’t like the odds of two,” she said calmly. “Loghain will take the Joining. If justice agrees with us, he’ll pay his price there and then.” And if not? They would have a man who would use his elbows in place of his legs if he had to to get the job done.

“You’re going to give him the honor Duncan had? After he _murdered_ Duncan?”

Loghain struggled to his feet. He watched Leif intently.

Yes, Warden Duncan’s death had been wrong and Loghain had been responsible. He had arguably been responsible for the entire darkspawn slaughter at Ostagar. But if a powerful general could be persuaded to go with her patchwork army… “The Grey Wardens take thieves and murderers all the time. Do you think I’ve forgotten Daveth? Loghain is a skilled warrior, almost a match for me, and an infamous strategist. We need that.” Finally and painfully she turned to study Alistair’s face. She looked for his faith in her, the faith that had brought them this far together. “Don’t fight me.”

Alistair made a slashing motion. “No. No. You supported Branka and tossed aside Caridin, and I said nothing. You supported Witherfang and tossed aside his victims, and I said nothing. Well, you can’t have Loghain. Not without tossing me.”

She had expected his distaste, not his desertion. “Alistair? No. You can’t.”

“If you take Loghain, I’m out.”

“But…Anora…”

His voice turned rough. “Oh, I’ll be your king. But I will not be your comrade. You figure it out.”

“Please. Don’t.” That wasn’t how this was supposed to go. She needed more Wardens, not a trade. “I have to do this. It’ll be different when the Blight is over but right now we need every—”

“Tell me? Honestly? Why are you fighting for him.” His voice rose and rose. “After everything he did. After selling elves into slavery. Your people.”

This again. “I am not. Just. An elf. I have to worry about bigger things. Besides, what’s more just for a slaver: dying, or working off his debt?”

Alistair threw up his hands. “You’re twisting everything! This is wrong!”

No, ‘wrong’ was giving up. “Please. If we were ever friends.”

“We’re not friends. You’ve made that obvious.” Alistair turned on his heel and stalked out, leaving the banns rumbling.

Leif tried to follow. Pain gripped her everything. She stumbled. She tried not to cry out and failed.

Loghain closed the distance in under two seconds and offered her his hand.

In the crowd, Zevran’s knife was out. Sten leaned forward with fists like mauls. Fareth growled. Leliana gave an anguished cry that no one listened to. All eyes were on the ravaged warrior and the wounded mage.

Leif planted her staff on the flagstones with all her discipline, but her body did not obey the command to stay up. When she started sagging around her support she reached out to clasp Loghain’s forearm.

He looked down. “If you intend to die, don’t let me stop you. If you don’t, stand.”

She pulled. They jointly pulled her up to standing while Leliana raced to take her hand. Wynne came close behind to tend.

“I suppose you’ll want me to heal him, too,” she said with a world of distaste.

“We’d better.” She returned her full attention to Loghain. “So we’re clear? I’m as angry as he is. _This was not an even trade_. But you can serve, after what you’ve done I think I rather like that you will, and nobody ever said Grey Wardens had to be good people.”

He eyed her dispassionately. “Never throw away a resource.”

Leif pulled her arm back from his steady grasp, leaving a wide smear of blood on his bracer. “Show me you are one.”

*

The Arl named Eamon had opened his house to Leif’s nearest friends. It lacked Alistair. He had been the youngest of them, and the brightest. Zevran had mischief couched in good wine and Leliana had droll laughter like music, but it was Alistair who had…

There was no point to this. Leif went to find Leliana.

Leliana was staring at paintings in the library. She smiled. “Has Wynne approved you? We don’t often encounter things that….” Her face fell. “I really believe he would have run you through.”

“Weren’t you impressed?”

“By you? Or him?”

“Him. Can you imagine pointing that at our enemies?”

Leliana looked at her as though the advantages were dawning for the first time since Leif had started bleeding. “Yes. Yes, I see. Played like a bard. You nearly paid a high price for it.”

“He’s going to be a Warden. Is there a story for that?”

“The man who turned his back on his king and ended up serving his kingdom in a higher cause? I’m sure I could write something for it.” Leliana smiled. Then pulled Leif into a tight hug. “You must not duel any more traitors. You must not take any more risks before the darkspawn horde comes.”

A young elven woman stuck her head in. “Warden Riordan has asked for you, my lady.”

“Call me Leif.” Leif squeezed Leliana’s hand, and stepped back. “Time to get another Warden.”

Warden Riordan had come from Orlais to evaluate the situation and had stayed to prepare for the archdemon at the head of the horde. Now he stood in the solarium, one of the innovations Eamon had gotten from his wife. Here only glass stood between garden and sky. Leif felt better just being in it.

Loghain Mac Tir was there, secure in his armor, sword at his side, shield on his back. His dark hair was combed back as though this were a special occasion. Her thoughts crept through her heart, closing doors to rooms that had lost their light. This man might be useful, but outside the job he deserved no more than a door in the face.

“You are here,” said Riordan. “Good.” He set a large pewter goblet on a table and mixed obscure vials and powders into it.

“Someday you must learn to do this,” said Riordan. “But not today.”

“Am I to know any more before the initiation begins?” Loghain said warily.

“No,” said Riordan and Leif.

Riordan continued. “It is usually the junior Warden who speaks. Do you know the words?”

She nodded. They had been Alistair’s first promise to her. “Join us, brothers and sisters.” She didn’t look at Loghain, though she could feel his stare on her. “Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn.” She looked up at him. “And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten...and that one day, we shall join you.”

“Drink,” said Riordan.

Loghain took it in silence. He kept his eyes open while he drank the goblet to the lees.

Leif remembered Daveth dying in agony from the darkspawn blood magic. Maybe Riordan remembered many more; the Joining was never easy. Loghain pitched to his hands and knees and threw his head back. Only the whites of his eyes showed. His spine arched and seized. In three tortured breaths he canted and fell to one side, there to stretch like an animal, spittle dribbling onto his hand.

Leif knelt. If this was dying, he had faced it well. And if it wasn’t…

He opened his eyes, pale and sunken as they were. He lurched to sit up. “Is it that close?” he rasped.

The archdemon. A Warden’s first vision. Leif took his hand and rose with him. “Not quite as close as you just saw,” she said. “But it’s gaining.”

“We must meet the horde at Redcliffe.”

“Agreed.” She turned to the senior Warden. “I’d like to travel separately, Riordan. Unless there’s more I need to know…I’m tired of the crowd.”

“Understood,” said Riordan. “Do not wander too far from our forces.”

Loghain shook his head and turned to Leif. “I will travel with you. Unless it’s me you’re trying to get away from.”

“No.” She wanted to understand him more. What had turned him into a Warden-hunting, battle-abandoning maniac, and could his good qualities still be harnessed? She had a lot riding on that bet. “I’d prefer it, actually. We leave at dawn.”

### Day 2

Crimson welled up in the eastern sky. Leif’s friends, the ones that remained, walked out of Denerim in good order. Everyone was in their armor; even on a highway just outside the capital, there was a feeling that attack might come from anywhere. Leif had switched into her enchanted dragon-slaying armor, which was ugly. People moved in twos and threes, speaking quietly, and for once Leif couldn’t even enjoy Zevran’s jokes. Her friend was gone, something terrible was coming, and she wanted something she could fight.

They paused by a pond and Leif left her friends to find someplace quiet. The disaster of the Landsmeet played in circles in her head.

_You can’t have Loghain. Not without tossing me._

Leif picked up one flat, smooth stone and sent it spinning to skip along the pond’s limpid surface.

_Oh, I’ll be your king. But I will not be your comrade._

Leif picked up one flat, smooth stone and sent it spinning to skip along the pond’s limpid surface. It didn’t get as far.

“Is this a bad time?”

Loghain. “The rocks will still be here. Did you want something?”

“Clarification.” With careful but firm steps he descended from the path to the little rocky shore. He towered over her, and, despite her will, her heart quailed. He looked at her tattoos and her staff. “Are you a Dalish elf or a Circle mage?”

Kidnapped from one life to the other. She stood her ground. “Are you a teyrn or a traitor? None of that matters now.” That was why he was still alive, after all. The Wardens didn’t care about your past.

“Fair enough.” He seemed to think about that. “Do you intend to take Denerim?”

“After this battle is done, Denerim’s going to welcome us with open arms. And then I’m going to leave my friend and your daughter in charge, the way it should be.”

“He’s a fool.”

_We’re not friends._

“He’s the best man I’ve ever known,” she said levelly. “And she wasn’t clever enough to stop your particular excesses, even after you got her husband killed at Ostagar. Excuse me, my sharp rocks are calling me.”

“Smooth ones skip better. I’m not so old I’ve forgotten that.” He gestured. “There’s something in your hair.”

She glared. He set his jaw and left.

She pulled the bright green leaf from her hair, and tossed it. Then she stooped for the smooth stone she’d had her eye on and threw.

*

She had thought that she would get some space after that. But, it was true, there was a lot he had to learn in the days they would spend on the road. She trudged onward, hoping to avoid it.

“Warden-Commander.”

Leif stiffened. “What did you call me?”

“We can’t very well go about calling each other ‘Warden.’ I select the next most appropriate title.”

He made it sound so reasonable. “What did you want to know?”

“Might you introduce me to your mabari? He isn’t certain what to think of me, and an uncertain war dog is a daunting prospect.”

“You. Daunted.” She whistled Fareth over. “His name’s Fareth. It means ‘truth.’”

“A noble animal.” Loghain ungloved one hand and extended it. Fareth sniffed and whined.

“This is Loghain,” Leif said unnecessarily. “He’s our friend.”

Loghain’s chin came up sharply. “I am?”

Well, yes, if they were to fight a Blight together. “I could tell him you’re not.”

“The affirmative will do. He reminds me of a dog I had, once.” He set his jaw. “But that’s for another time.”

Anyone who loved a dog had to have some goodness inside. “Fareth’s easy. It would have been near impossible to get Alistair that close.”

“And licking? A risk.”

She glared at the tree-stubbled horizon. “He was my best friend.”

“But not a devoted Warden.”

“He was, though. He was so dedicated, if I would only hate you like he did.”

They walked in silence.

“You do not?” he said slowly.

She thought about Alistair, and losing him because she could bear to grasp a bloodstained tool and he couldn’t. She thought about Zevran, whom Loghain had sent to kill her. She thought of Wynne, who had survived Loghain’s treachery at Ostagar. She thought of Leliana, who had beaten Loghain’s minions to within an inch of their lives when they threatened to turn in the bounty on Grey Wardens. So much of this past year could be laid at his feet. But that wasn’t even everything.

She beckoned for the comfort of Fareth at her side. “Everything you’ve done,” she said, “is consistent with a desire to preserve the kingdom and maintain continuity in the capital. I disagree with your choice of allies and your assessment of the threats, and I think you do easily deserve death for the company you’ve kept and the orders you’ve given. But I knew when I fought you…you have something worth saving, if I can use it against the archdemon.”

He seemed to give this thought. “Practical.”

“You want to show me what you’re made of? Tell me Fereldan history. You abandoned the king at Ostagar to keep your forces ready against an Orlesian invasion that never happened. Tell me why Orlais is so much worse than the darkspawn. Tell me what the Wardens at Ostagar died for.”

“They died under a darkspawn horde. Wardens do that.”

“Why did you leave them?”

“Doesn’t your Orlesian bard tell you of the Orlesian wars?”

And Leliana had, but she’d never used it as a motive for desertion. “She’s interesting, but she isn’t you.”

“You may regret asking me to describe this.”

“Do you think a Dalish elf will be shocked by oppression?”

“It’s poor conversational fare. But come, if you want me to begin. This conflict has bubbled over the borders between us for as long as there has been an Orlais and a Ferelden. Time and again Orlais invades, and time and again Ferelden throws her off. We always hope this one will stick…for thirty years, it has. Next year, Maker willing, it will be thirty-one.”

His voice was deep and harsh, his tone sidling between grim recital and a strange dark humor, his subject matter proceeding from strategic history to personal recollection. He paused to ask her questions, at first seemingly out of disbelief that she was listening, later to elicit her opinion. He seemed to think Orlesian cruelty would shock her. She thought of slavers in the Alienage, and darkspawn recruitment for women. It shouldn’t be a competition. She encouraged him to keep talking, and kept her memories to herself.

“That gives you the high-level view,” he said evenly. “Does that make my actions any clearer?”

“Yes. Still. If Orlais had an army on the border and there were darkspawn in the wilds, I would leave the border and destroy the enemy I had personally experienced as more dangerous.”

“Even after all I’ve described.”

“Yes. After all I’ve been told, and all I’ve known. You understand that?”

“Better the bitch whose bite you know. Hm. I do.”

*

Leif checked in with her comrades. Now that they were out of the city they made the rhythm that had sustained them for a year of battling darkspawn. Everyone said something about Alistair. She wrote their words on her heart, and moved on. This might be the last circle where he was remembered as a man and not a king.

But there were other things to do. She raced to keep up with Loghain. “Loghain? We should talk about darkspawn.”

“Time runs short.”

“Yes. There are things you need to know. You can sense them – with time you can discern how many and what kind.”

“How long did it take you?”

“A few months.”

“Ah. I shall strike that off the list of skills I am likely to have when the archdemon comes.”

“Darkspawn alone are mindless destroyers. With an archdemon they become coordinated destroyers. If the archdemon had been at Ostagar, your men would not have survived.”

“The beasts I saw there seemed motivated enough.”

“It gets worse. They’re inhuman, but under an archdemon they’re not stupid. They have no problem piling through sewers or any other place a human being wouldn’t want to go. Lean on your senses. Don’t assume that one in front of you means none behind.”

“What kind of weaponry should I expect?”

“Anything. They like pikes and hooks and whatever they can steal from the people they’ve murdered. They’re capable of using ranged weapons but in my experience they only do so when the tactical advantage is overwhelming. One in every fifty or a hundred is an emissary. They wave staves. You must suppress their spells as soon as you see them.”

“If I were a Templar I would take that counsel.”

Leif winced. “Of course, I…I was thinking…” Of Alistair.

“We both have things to get used to. As for your Emissaries, I’ve bludgeoned my share of mages, as you may remember. More to the point I’ll set our ranged forces on them.”

Under his questioning she turned over memories she hadn’t known she’d had, seeking any insight that might be turned into a tactical advantage. Loghain questioned steadily, rationally, and mercilessly, until she had given him everything the past year had given her.

“They sound like a credible threat,” he said at last.

“Did Ostagar not teach you that?”

“Hm. Point taken. Did your Wardens teach you all this? It has a personal ring.”

“The only Grey Wardens I ever met were Duncan and Alistair. I was a brand new recruit, I showed up the day of the battle.”

“So everything you know, you learned from the boy or experience.” He frowned at the horizon. “I’m becoming embarrassed that I couldn’t stop you.”

“You, in person, would have bashed my skull in. I’d never fought so much as a mouse when I started.”

“History chooses strange instruments.”

“Are we chosen?”

He was silent for a long moment. “I don’t know.”

*

Sten visited Leif at the next stop. “Your recruit is…sensible,” he said. “We discussed certain things.”

“He’s not in the antaam, too, is he?” Though that might explain a few things.

“No,” Sten said flatly. “But he is ready to die. Let us continue.”

*

Leif was used to her companions taking off their plate armor at night. Sten looked just as imposing without it. Loghain was reduced from a wall to a sturdy column.

Dusk settled. Loghain slept without a tent. It made it easy to notice when he started thrashing. He made a horrible noise in his throat as he twitched. Leif rushed to his side. She pinned his hard shoulder and shook. His eyes snapped open. He tried to sit. Leif held firm.

“Just a dream,” she said. “It isn’t as close as it looks. And you get used to it.”

His face looked ghostly in the diffuse starlight. “You can never say anything unalloyed with the bitter, can you?”

“I thought that was positive.”

“Do you have…” he gestured vaguely…“these?”

“Every night.”

Loghain nodded. “One more variety. They will not shake my resolve either.”

“No. I expect they wouldn’t.” She let go his shoulder. “There’s a song I sing to myself when I hear the archdemon’s voice. It helps keep me in the moment. You might want to pick one.”

“I’ll take your advice.” He folded his hands over his chest and appeared to make an attempt to will himself back to sleep. Leif left him to it.

### Day 3

On the road in the morning Loghain returned to Leif’s side. When he finally started with the words they were driven like chisels. “You never gave a damn about Ferelden, did you.”

“Didn’t I just ensure the succession?”

“Like a girl playing with her dolls, arranging them just so.” He held up a hand to forestall her complaints. “You are Dalish, and you are Circle. Neither people are particularly connected to the human, free kingdoms. Your world is not mine, and however much you may wish to tinker with it, mine is not yours.”

“Seems to me darkspawn threaten both.” She moistened her lips and considered the farmland around them, which felt much like farmland anywhere. Her love was for forests and brooks, regardless of border. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m not attached to Ferelden. But I don’t want to see her fall. Doesn’t that make us allies?”

“Does it? Can you get over your Alistair’s abandonment, your Duncan’s death, for Ferelden? Do you think I will become palatable to you, that I have the virtue to lay awake at night counting the lives I’ve spent like beads for penance?”

“I think I’d feel a little better if you did.”

“Then I must disappoint.” He took on a sardonic tone. “Besides, my nights belong to the archdemon now.”

*

Everyone had been walking all day for close to a year now; no one felt particularly sore, but there was no use pressing it just then. Leif eyed Loghain, but he made no complaint. They paused when the sun was high.

Leif stretched out and lay in the sun. Leliana lay beside her.

“Did he tell you about the River Dane?” said Leliana. “There are songs.”

“He mentioned that the rebels turned back the Orlesians there. Was there more to it?”

“He is titled the hero of it. He was made a teyrn for it.”

“He didn’t mention that part.”

Leliana’s eyes sparkled. “Leif…it may be that soon we will use Loghain. But he will never be simple.”

“Just like us, right?”

“Perhaps.” Leliana half sat and leaned to kiss Leif. “Songs follow Grey Wardens. Perhaps he will write a verse none of us expected.”

*

“Morrigan tried to strike up a conversation,” said Loghain at Leif’s side.

“What?” she said. “Why?”

“She didn’t say. Given how secretive she was, and what she was doing with her…ribbon, I’m forced to wonder whether she wanted something specific.”

Leif chortled. She remembered Morrigan’s words: that there are two things a man will always believe of a woman, one, that she is weak, and two, that she finds him attractive. “I don’t know how friendly she’s trying to get. A year ago? When we were starting out? She suggested I go kill you and then deal with the Blight at my leisure.”

“Oh? Why didn’t you?”

“You did have the entire armed forces of a country in your defense.”

“And your other enemy possesses an underground army the size of the largest empires Thedas has ever known. That didn’t slow you down.”

“I wasn’t trying to get to their center.” She chewed her lip a little. “You were a force of nature. I never really believed I could touch you.”

He raised one hand to waist height. “You did.” A second later, “Interestingly, when I raise my hand for any reason, your Zevran starts stroking his knives.”

“You hired him, you know.”

“I thought he looked familiar. You turned that against me, too.”

“Oghren and Sten are watching you, too, it’s just that you can’t casually pet a warhammer.”

“Yes, your men have closed ranks. And it seems the only woman who can stand me is the Orlesian.”

“Shale’s a woman.” Leif looked at the golem. Loghain looked at the golem. The golem noticed, clasped her hands around an imaginary human-head-sized space, and crushed.

“Okay,” said Leif, “it’s just the Orlesian.”

*

Late that day they crested a hill. The Imperial Highway, a causeway that linked kingdoms of old, ran down clean and white across a wide valley. Up ahead two dozen deer tried to graze in the cracks between the highway’s stones.

“Pause,” said Loghain. Leif put her hand up. Her companions stopped. “We should get the army here,” said Loghain. “They would eat well. Why are these beasts here now?”

“They are deer,” said Zevran. “Is that mysterious?”

“Look at them. They’re hardly even afraid. They’re from someplace where the highway doesn’t reach, or where it isn’t often used.”

“A human general analyzes deer, then?” Sten deadpanned.

“We all have hobbies,” Loghain said dryly. “At least, humans do. There may be forces in the wilds south of here. Whose, I don’t know. We should not waste time.”

“He is right about one thing,” said Morrigan. “These beasts are truly wild.”

Leif was in favor of the beauty of nature, but she was also hungry, and after all, deer should serve a purpose. “Can we eat one, or else what are we supposed to do with them?”

Leliana prepared her bow. “Say the word,” she said.

“It’ll be good eating,” said Oghren. “Don’t suppose we can lead the rest of ‘em around on leashes for later?”

“They’ll break their own legs trying to get away,” said Loghain. “Don’t bother.”

“Again with the strangely specific knowledge,” said Zevran. “Did we recruit a general or a poacher?”

“Hm.” Loghain grinned, thin-lipped. “It pays to have a backup career.”

Leliana shot. The deer scattered, all but one. Sten picked up the dead deer and continued as though unencumbered. Night drew on. Leif’s people made camp in a sheltered copse. Loghain and Sten made short work butchering the deer, Sten watching Loghain’s movements as if expecting poison. Everyone got a share. No one died. Not even the dog, whom Loghain fed a generous bone before it occurred to anyone to stop him.

Fareth gnawed the bone. He looked at Loghain. He looked at Leif.

“Beat me to it,” said Leif, and their companions relaxed. “You know how to feed a mabari without getting your hand taken off.”

“A critical Fereldan skill,” Loghain said dryly.

He built his own fire again and started cooking some unnameable part that nobody else had wanted. He looked up at Leif’s approach. “Liver. An acquired taste. Will you want some when it’s done?”

“I’m at my limit for new things just at the moment,” said Leif. “You really were a poacher, weren’t you?”

“I couldn’t legally hunt on Orlesian-occupied lands.” He shrugged. “I met Maric poaching.”

“The old King.”

“‘Old.’ Perhaps. You weren’t in human lands until after he disappeared.”

“I’m still trying to imagine you doing something illegal when you’re not related to the current royalty.”

“Every free action was illegal for Fereldans during the occupation. I just picked one that could feed my family.”

Without asking permission she squatted opposite him with the fire between. “Do you want to know something strange?”

He rotated the…organ. “I’d be curious to know what a person like you considers strange.”

She missed Alistair’s humor and pluck, but… “It’s a relief to have a more experienced ally.”

“‘Ally?’ I suppose we are. I had noticed your followers skew young. Except the healer, who is no tactician, and perhaps the qunari, who will teach you nothing that you could use against him later.”

It was uncomfortable to hear her darkest opinions pulled free of her skein of affection and bared to the light. “You know, I had a mentor back at the Circle. I think he liked me because I was already properly Dalish before I was confined. It gave him a different mind to work with. Maybe you remember him. His name was Uldred.”

“Ah. The mage that the Revered Mother summarily dismissed at Ostagar.”

“Would more magic have turned the tide?”

Loghain gave it serious consideration. “No. It would have prolonged the battle, but their ogres outnumbered our mages, and you’ve seen what they do to people.”

“Oh, yes.”

He shook his head. “Even if Uldred and his forces had a free hand, I do not believe he would have carried the day.”

She wasn’t fond of the Circle, but it made her feel better to hear it. “Do you know what happened to him?”

“He survived the battle, did he not? I did not see.”

“Right, with all the running away you were doing.” He took it without so much as a twitch and she felt weirdly guilty for striking. “Uldred went back to the Circle. I had left, I was a Warden. He came up with a scheme to turn all the mages into abominations, destroy the Templars, and…I wasn’t clear on the rest of it.”

“So that’s why the Templars abandoned Denerim in, as I am so frequently reminded, the middle of a Blight. They were after the Right of Annulment.”

“His doing. He was always so good at explaining things, but I…I don’t know what he was thinking there.” Leif looked at her hands, then at Loghain. “So you see, my experience with mentors isn’t great.”

“I will endeavor to avoid deals with demons,” Loghain said dryly. “Is that your sole standard of behavior?”

“No.”

“I see. Your other requirements remain obscure.”

“What I really want is—Sh. Do you feel that?” She gestured at her hair.

Loghain mirrored the motion. “That…itch?”

“Weapons out. Darkspawn! Everyone, darkspawn!” The shriek seemed to materialize beside her, its bladed arm swinging. She shot ice at the attacker and it reeled back.

The camp as one rose and drew weapons. Leif swung into her usual rotation. She battered the gangly darkspawn: shock. Smash. Scorch. Shove.

Loghain stood between her and several more monsters. She fired spells around him, or tried. He kept stepping into where she was aiming, and he would swing his sword until one of her spells weakened at the last instant accidentally hit him and he staggered forward or aside. Over and over he returned to hold his position. She could say one thing, not a single shriek got past his guard. He was measured, wary, and, given an opening, brutal beyond the telling of it. If she had feared that an older person would lack in energy, well, this set that to rest.

“Clear,” called Zevran. “Clear,” said Leliana.

“Clear,” confirmed Leif as Loghain twisted his sword free of the last shriek’s guts by way of both kidneys. “Well done,” she said. “Any injuries?”

“Nothing life-threatening,” said Wynne at Zevran’s arm.

Leif’s abuse, mostly hastily canceled telekinesis and shock, hadn’t badly damaged Loghain’s armor. “Help me get this off,” she said curtly.

He sat as best one might in plate armor. In silence and with practiced speed he unbuckled his breastplate and its back piece. His shirt was scorched. Most people she did that to were dead.

She touched his shoulder and checked. He bore it in stubborn silence. Yes, burns and bruises here. She fixed what she could. She never had to do this with Alistair. They had fit like a puzzle. “Any better?” she said.

Loghain stood and rolled his shoulders stiffly. “That will do. Thank you.”

“I’m sorry. I will learn which way you jump.”

“If I am ever that predictable, I’ll deserve whatever happens to me.”

“Yes, but I want to not kill you in a fight. Show me how you work. I’m a fast learner.”

“Consider flanking. I cannot shield you, but at least then you’ll have darkspawn in line of sight.” He frowned down at her. “Do you want to know something strange? I really believe you weren’t aiming for me.”

“Then we’ll improve.”

“I know a hundred families that would pay a dear price for the chance to strike me in the back.”

“But you belong to the Wardens now. No one gets to do it but me.”

“And you won’t, if you can help it.” He frowned. She frowned right back at him, and in time, he nodded. “I see we both have things to learn.”


	2. The Final Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle at the end of the game timeline.

### Day 4

Leif and her party expected to reach Redcliffe by sunset. Everyone walked a little faster, breathed a little easier. There was so much to do, and so little time, but they would rest in beds tonight.

Loghain took in the view with the calm, critical eye he turned on everything. “What do you know about the archdemon?”

“You’ve seen it,” said Leif. “During the Joining, in the dreams.”

“It has a…voice.”

“That’s how it commands the darkspawn.” She remembered this conversation with Alistair. He had been so nice about it. Bad news and witty one-liners. “I’m told more experienced Wardens can start to understand it…and I’m told it’s worse for people who Join during a Blight.”

“What do you know about killing it in the waking world?”

“Riordan will have the details. I know its form is that of a dragon. I have some armor specifically for the occasion, if we only had time for you…”

“I’ve killed a dragon in this getup.”

Now that was a hell of a casual line. “Really? I only did two and a half, and they were…odd. What was yours like?”

His deep-set eyes gleamed. “No distractions, madam, you promised me word of the archdemon.”

“Of course. Its blood is deadly poison – I don’t mean it’ll kill you right away, I mean that if it hits your lips it’ll infect you with the Blight and you’ll die with white skin and black veins and nothing but pain in your mouth – its blood is also corrosive, keep it away from any surfaces you want to keep intact.”

“Traditionally speaking my enemies do bleed at me,” he said dryly. “I will do what I can. You must stay back, out of splash range.”

“I will. I’ll look into this flanking.”

“If you succeed in shooting me with an archdemon standing between us I’ll know it’s intentional.”

When they got around to stopping, Sten startled the hell out of Leif by appearing over her shoulder. “Warden Loghain.” He only barely overtopped Loghain. If she didn’t have telekinetic command she might start feeling vulnerable, staring up at them. “You say you have slain a dragon. How?”

Loghain spared him a searching look. “Slowly, and with a sword.”

“If we are to face a dragon we must have our tactics aligned.”

The others were coming together now. The breeze had ceased to be pleasant.

“Yes,” said Leliana to one side, “we must not assume that we can fight with Loghain as we fought with Alistair.”

Shale stamped. “Ooh, maybe this one will take hits with something other than its face.”

Oghren belched. “He only got in my way anyway.”

“Mind your tongue,” said Wynne. “Our coordination always hinged on him.”

“By fiat, if nothing else,” grumbled Sten.

“I think we are getting away from ourselves,” said Zevran. “We must decide how to handle a dragon.”

“Yes,” said Morrigan, “I don’t recall the last one going very well.”

Morrigan’s mother Flemeth had nearly killed them all. Leif scowled. “Fine, then. You have a dragon. Ranged people focus fire on the wings until it lands.”

“And after,” said Loghain.

“The head is top priority, and it takes too long to switch between head and wings,” said Leif.

“Unless you’re me,” said Shale. “I can throw rocks at any range.”

Leif nodded. “As soon as it’s on the ground, the head is top priority.”

“Eyes,” said Sten. “Throat. Every opportunity must be taken.”

“But it can just fly about to a better position,” said Loghain. “You must keep your ranged forces focused on immobilizing it.”

Morrigan scoffed. “And allow your fighters to deal with its head nose to nose? You must at least harass it or your front line will be eaten.”

They went on like this for several minutes. Leif watched carefully. Loghain was not trying to make friends, but he spoke with conviction, and he made no empty boasts. Everyone here was a veteran. It made her feel a little better.

And her doubt about Loghain Mac Tir receded a bit more. He argued directly and without apology, but any time Leif put her foot down, he deferred to her. Discipline. Somehow she had expected the tyrant.

An archdemon. She needed a plan. Her friends would back her up.

*

“You breathe Ferelden. Are there specific people you care about?”

Loghain walked silent for so long Leif wondered whether she had just imagined speaking. “Maric,” he said at last. “The old king. Rowan, his wife. Celia. My wife. Anora. My daughter. Cailan, for what that’s worth.” He stared straight ahead. “Most of them are dead.”

“So you spend your time on a cause.”

“Don’t you?” 

“I look after my friends, too. Maybe I would give them up, maybe I did, but…I hope I can keep them.”

Again, the silence.

“You’re lonely,” he said in a changed tone.

It was her turn to be quiet. She had lost her clan, had lost her Circle. She had lost her family, lost her options. Maybe she did want to cling to those who had come together around her.

“It was not my intent to pry,” he said quietly. “For what it’s worth, your friends return your attachment.”

“Does it ever get easier? Watching them go.”

“No.”

“Even…I mean, when I’m your age?”

“You know the difference between my age and yours? Imagine everything you can’t undo. Now multiply it by two, and two again, year on year…until you lose count.”

“The mistakes included?”

“Especially the mistakes.”

“You’re not making this sound attractive.”

“Aging isn’t, as a rule.”

She kept going, as if her mind was trying to squeeze out every moment. “Loghain? I have a feeling about this. Like we’re not going to make it.”

“But we’re finishing the archdemon. That is not negotiable.”

“Yes. After, I mean.”

He gestured at his head. “Grey Warden intuition? Like your darkspawn warning?”

“No.” She gestured at her heart. “It just feels like we Grey Wardens can’t outrun the taint forever.”

“So long as the Blight is ended, I don’t see that it matters.” He paused. “Though you have more to lose than I.”

It led to something she wouldn’t say to Leliana, or indeed to any of them. “I would leave it all behind.” Perhaps more sensibly, “I’m not afraid.”

“We have things in common, you and I.” He was quiet, and it didn’t feel uncomfortable. So they went on.

*

In the end he walked in silence, staring at the ground. She was trying to walk with bigger strides and he kept up with her as though physically linked. Finally he looked up. “You’re no older than my daughter.”

Leif swam out of her concerned thoughts. “No, I imagine not.”

“But she has been a queen for five years. Perhaps you’re old enough to command.”

“How old were you in your first battles?”

“Hm. Younger than this.” He thought further. “You have every tactical lesson a year on the road can give you, and enough nerve to man two galleons and a canoe, but you’re no seasoned strategist, and you’ve never viewed this country through that lens. I offer my services. I’m not giving that to Riordan, and I’m not particularly giving it to the Wardens. I’m giving it to you.”

“I’m honored,” she said. That was a surprise. “I hope my experience will help you do whatever it is you need to do.”

“Warden-Commander.” He made it sound like a complete sentence. So they went on.

*

The walk to Redcliffe wound through a rough-and-tumble land full of odd copses and scattered boulders. Leif pressed a hard pace. The sun was nearly gone over the horizon when they crested the ridge and saw the windmill on the hill.

“Ah, Redcliffe,” said Shale. “I always appreciated the demon’s thoroughness about birds.”

Leif shook her head. “I don’t see the horde. And I don’t feel the archdemon.”

A woman came at them on a white horse. “Wardens! Wardens! The horde has swept east. It’s marching on Denerim!”

Loghain went dead white. “Horses. Distance runners, and quickly. Seven of them. Shale will have to stay here.”

“I can walk,” grumbled Shale. “Briskly. I can certainly outpace the armies.”

“Fareth,” said Leif, “Take care of Shale.”

“Yes, I am such a damsel.”

Fareth barked cheerfully, and then he got out of the way.

And just like that they were in Eamon’s stables, selecting horses. That’s where Teagan found them.

“Leif, I’m glad to see you, but the darkspawn are making for Denerim. I—” He boggled. “Loghain? Here? I don’t understand, who allowed this?”

“The senior Warden did,” Loghain said dryly. “I have been conscripted.”

“But the Regency?”

“Anora is Queen. Alistair will be King. There is no need for my continued presence.”

Teagan swept a hand back over his hair and frowned. “Good, so far as it goes. I have not forgotten that your blood mage nearly got Eamon killed.”

“And I have gotten many more people more directly killed.” Loghain stopped with his hand on an enormous war horse. “The Landsmeet accepted my recruitment. Will you oppose me?”

Leif cleared her throat. “If anyone’s going to defend Denerim it should be him.”

Teagan scowled. “I can concede a point without liking it.”

There was no one else to check with. Leif led the way out: she had a sturdy-looking beast, as did most of the others, but Sten and Loghain’s mounts were practically draft horses.

They rode into the night. It was Loghain who slowed them. “Six hours’ rest,” he said.

“This pace will kill the horses,” said Leif.

“If they’re of Redcliffe quality it will kill them as we get within sight of Denerim. They’ve done nothing to deserve it, but I see no better option. Do you?”

Every moment’s delay was another unknown number of deaths from the darkspawn in Denerim. She took a brush from her borrowed saddlebags and started wiping her horse down where it stood heaving and twitching. She made the strokes long and gentle. The poor animal hadn’t asked for any of this. “I’m sorry, we must go on in a little while, sh-sh-sh. I’m sorry, brave one. I must ask us all to bleed.”

Loghain raised an eyebrow. “You are sentimental about unexpected things.”

“I’m not in the habit of ordering allies to their deaths.”

“You’ll have to outgrow that.”

“Sh-sh, don’t listen to him, dear one. Rest. I must ask you to be very strong tomorrow.”

Loghain frowned at her. Then he pulled the feed bag from the saddlebags, checked its contents, and looped it over the trembling horse’s nose. Quietly he moved to another.

She shook her head. How could he do this so calmly with his plan? “Even knowing.”

“Even knowing,” he said. “I’ll wake us in six hours. Consider for yourself how much of that time you want to spend sleeping.” One hand fell away from the horse’s nose, and he tightened the feed bag and walked away.

*

She woke in the dark with Loghain’s hand on her shoulder. She sat up and reflexively went for the food in her pack. Breakfast first.

“I don’t know any word but monster,” she whispered. Would Alistair calculate running horses to death? Would a slower pace be enough to save a city? Things used to be so simple. They were right or wrong. They were sweet and gently laughable or wicked and irredeemable. She fit into that scheme.

Whatever she was now, she would end the Blight. She wondered if that was vindication.

People and plate, and a highway in the darkness. When the rain started nobody slowed. It would be hell on the plate wearers’ armor, but they could deal with that when next they paused. The sky stretched tattered clouds over them like makeshift bandages. On and on they raced, through the dawn and beyond.

### Day 5

Before noon Loghain called a halt. The horses stood quivering. The general motion was to roll out of the saddle and into an uneasy sleep. It was Sten who later sat up and said, “Parshaara. We should move on.” He looked to Leif when he said it. Tired, but wondering about Denerim, she nodded and resaddled her horse.

Loghain pressed a savage pace. Leif reflected that Denerim had been his home for decades. She tried to imagine having a home for decades. Maybe she would be that harsh too.

Sten stayed at Loghain’s side. Leliana and Wynne cast beseeching looks at Leif. She just shook her head and kept going. She didn’t know how much of a head start the darkspawn horde had, but if they reached Denerim before a Warden did the city would burn.

It was hard to think. It was hard to do anything at this pace. She watched the miles, and knocked them prone one by one.

Time passed. Rain layered drops on the horses’ sweat and cleansed nothing. Leif’s horse was panting fit to die.

Die in range of Denerim. No. To hell with that.

“Halt,” shouted Leif, loud enough for Loghain and Sten to hear. She only had to say it once.

Everyone formed a circle. Leliana, Zevran, Wynne, and Oghren dismounted immediately to spare the horses.

“Four hours’ rest,” said Leif. “Now.”

“The darkspawn will not be taking that rest,” said Loghain.

“You don’t know how close they are.”

“Neither do you. I cannot mobilize Denerim in the time it takes an enemy to lumber into view. You must have measures in place before you see them.”

Leif scowled. “Two hours. We don’t have replacement horses.”

Loghain dismounted, looking ready to bite steel. “Warden-Commander. You have my recommendation.”

When Leif dismounted and rested her forehead against the trembling horse’s neck, she heard Leliana behind her. Leliana pulled her into a hug and whispered, “You’re doing well.”

“What if he’s right?”

“He’s killing these poor horses for a margin of error. I will not call kindness a mistake.” She lowered her voice. “Not in this life.”

“Leif?” It was Wynne. “I wish it could be twelve hours. I will see to unsaddling.”

“Ancestors bless you.” Oghren belched, then pulled his packaged armor free of his horse.

“I will stand watch,” said Zevran. “We’ll laugh about this someday.”

Leif managed to sleep within minutes. Wynne woke her. Loghain and Sten were armed, armored, and in their saddles.

“Loghain,” said Leif. “Get down.”

If he was tall by himself, he was cloud-wreathed on the horse. “We’ve already lost too much time,” he said.

“Get down and take off your armor.”

“What?”

“Get off. The horse. And remove. Your armor. Give it to Zevran. You and I are riding ahead, as fast as we can.”

“And what do you mean for me to do if there is already fighting at the gate?”

“Hold my staff. The others will catch up with your gear at a less insane pace. These are my orders, Warden, we don’t have time for debate.”

If somebody said “ _yess_ ” just at that moment, they didn’t admit to it.

Leif left her enchanted dragon-slaying armor with Wynne. She went on with her cloth-belted tunic, short breeches, and muddy boots. As the drizzle turned to a steady rain, Loghain and Leif bent low over their horses and let them run. Less encumbered, Loghain’s warhorse surged ahead; less restrained by Leif’s nervous hand, her mount kept pace. Into the night they rushed, not knowing where the enemy stood, or how fast it was moving.

The rain stopped and the sky swept to brilliant stars. Leif pushed back her lank hair and breathed a few times before calling. “Loghain?”

He slowed. “Yes?”

“Two hours?”

“If you want my opinion, they don’t need it. They’re strained, but not in mortal peril.”

“Is that your professional evaluation, or your way of saying you don’t want to rest?”

“Without the load of plate armor, I think mine is in no danger. And I picked the best for you. She can go on.”

“Noted. Thank you.” With that, they hurried once more.

### Day 6

They stopped for the necessaries and remounted. Loghain frowned at Leif. “Commander? Truly.”

“Truly what?”

“When do you condemn me for what I have done?”

She thought about Branka. She thought about Witherfang. “Does condemning you end the Blight?”

They rode in silence for a while. “We have more in common than I knew.”

Right, but she had loyalties. She wondered whether he would see that before the end.

The land between Denerim and the Drakon River had been unthreatened by war for a generation. It was flat and grassy; Loghain explained that higher plant mass was burned and cleared every spring. An archer could fire from Denerim’s walls and hit a target two hundred fifty yards away. Leif surveyed the land and thought about the number of arrows one could fling into an ogre at full lumbering speed. Maybe not enough, but a lot.

A handful of clusters of buildings had sprung up on the verge of the wide black Drakon. “Something Cailan failed to curb,” grumbled Loghain. “Come.”

“Is this where they’ll cross?”

“No, they’ll cross west of Dragon’s Peak and take the floodplains up. It seems they haven’t done so yet.” Was he about to say she’d been right? Oh, no, he didn’t. “Come, let’s see what Arl Eamon has to say.”

“We only got the raven this morning,” is what Eamon reported in the comfort of his estate. “We’ve seen nothing from the south yet. Is our army turning back?”

“All of them,” said Leif. “Perhaps they will outrun the darkspawn.”

Leif’s stomach felt like a brick, but she knew better than to deny herself a meal while she had the chance. It was over a fine meat pie that Riordan burst in panting. “I rode as soon as I heard. Has the archdemon shown itself?”

“Not yet,” said Leif. “I think tonight is our only chance to prepare.”

“The preparation is simple, my friend. Would you come with me?”

Leif did, and Loghain, too. They gathered in a small, snugly appointed bedroom.

“So,” said Riordan. “It comes to this. When the archdemon dies, its old god soul will seek out the nearest blighted being…and snuff it out. To kill an archdemon, a Grey Warden must die.”

“Is that all?” said Loghain, as though he had remarked on the weather. “Consider it done.”

So that was her feeling, thought Leif. She’d been right.

Riordan gestured a warning. “I am the senior Warden here. I will fight alongside you, but you must let me go when it is in its death throes.”

“And should you fail, I will step in,” said Loghain. “Simple enough.”

“Don’t protect me,” said Leif.

Riordan and Loghain both looked at her, not with condescension but with the calm of two professionals speaking to a third. “You have less to atone for,” said Loghain. “You kept me to use me, don’t back out now.”

“Any one of us will take any shot we can get.”

He nodded. “Acknowledged.” He sounded like he wouldn’t let her.

There seemed to be nothing else to say. Leif could think of a hundred more details Loghain should know about a Grey Warden’s life and Calling, but why tell him about a future he wouldn’t have?

Ugly thoughts.

Loghain beckoned on their way out. “Leif, I must coordinate the city’s defenses. You should be involved.”

That led into meetings. With Anora and about a dozen people Leif had never even heard of. Men and women who reported on supplies, dispositions, fortifications…the people who made this city run. Loghain made his recommendations with the overt acknowledgment that Anora could override him and the subtler acknowledgement that, in matters touching the darkspawn themselves, Leif could, too. A city map was sketched out and densely populated with minutiae. Loghain said to cut the alienage as indefensible. Leif said to save the alienage. Loghain’s jaw worked but he did not fight her. Anora noticed. So it went on.

Hours later, Leif staggered back to her bedroom.

Only to find Morrigan sitting with studied nonchalance on her bed.

“Morrigan! Where are the others?”

“I went ahead. There is something you and I must discuss before the battle is joined.” She smiled at her little pun.

Well, nobody was dying tonight, and Morrigan seemed to be in a good mood. Leif was willing to accept that. “What is it?”

*

Leif opened her mouth, but nothing happened.

“Is that a stunned ‘yes’ or a stunned ‘no’?” purred Morrigan.

“If you sleep with Loghain…you can take the archdemon’s soul so it doesn’t have to annihilate a Warden’s. Really?”

“Oh, yes. You need not fear dying with the archdemon. Apart from the fire and the talons, which I leave in your capable hands.”

“If Loghain can get you pregnant.”

“If the attempt is made, it will succeed.”

“I’m giving him a choice.”

“Why? He would give you none, were your positions reversed.” She seemed to find ‘positions’ funny.

“I’m giving him a choice because if he told me to do it you’d be finding fragments of his teeth in the décor for weeks.” Leif scowled. “Still. I appreciate the offer. Just imagine, taking an old god’s soul away from the darkspawn. I will give him every reason I have.”

“A mean who deals in that much death will either jump at the chance to survive, or be completely unmoved. I assume your burgeoning friendship will suggest some suitable argument.”

“If I succeed, you’ll know.”

Morrigan nodded. “I shall wait outside.”

*

Leif knocked, and when Loghain opened the door he was in a plain shirt and breeches. Like on the ride here, but less drenched. He still had the towering going for him.

“Yes?” he said.

“May I come in? We need to talk.”

He stepped aside and held the door for her. “Is this where I hear the remainder of the archdemon's price?”

“Arguably, yes.” The bedroom was as sterile as hers: a faded tapestry, a moderately sized bed, a chest of who knows what at its foot. He barely lived there. “I want you to understand that what I ask you for next, you can refuse. I won't order you to do it.”

He clearly hadn’t been expecting this sentiment. “I'm listening.”

“I want you to have sex with Morrigan.”

“Surely I didn’t hear that right.” He scowled at her. “Why?”

“She wishes to draw the archdemon's soul into herself—through contact with you.”

“A pregnancy.”

“Perhaps. I assume.”

“And Riordan cannot serve in my place? Nor you in hers?”

That brought her brain to a violent halt. She expected him to provide her with options that she could not have intuited herself, but that? “I-it has to be her. And it has to be a recent recruit.”

“I see. If I refuse?”

“Then we die fighting the archdemon.”

“The fate I expect.” He calculated. He opened his mouth. “You, with all your fine ideals. Do you truly believe this is…right?”

“I trust her. She will turn that thing's essence into…I can't imagine, but I know she is better than a darkspawn.”

“You recommend it.”

“You have to choose. I will not spend your body to get the reprieve I want. You are not a tool to me.”

His lips thinned. “I should be. Don't be sentimental. You won't waste the archdemon's soul any more than you would waste my flesh. Very well. I will do as you…suggest.”

“I won’t talk about this again, unless you want to.”

“I doubt I will. Was there anything else?”

“No. Sleep as much as you can. I’ll practice flanking in the morning.”

### Day 7

The knock on the door shocked Leif out of sleep. She trudged to open.

“You wake early,” she told Loghain blearily.

He looked big and armored and unimpressed. “I would let you sleep in until full dawn, but we have preparations to make.”

Outside the gates, the armies were catching up. The golems and Shale had stomped in at midnight and now stood by the gate awaiting command. As Leif and Loghain watched, the werewolves caught up and promptly dropped to nap. The rest of Leif’s inner circle came shortly after. By midmorning the mages and Redcliffe soldiers were in sight.

A shadow crawled from the south.

At noon, Leif decided, they had better put everyone in place. The darkspawn were likely to claim the night.

Commanders filed forth to meet Leif at the gates. Riordan waved. Loghain looked at the assortment. “Impressive,” he said to Leif.

“It took some work.”

“While I was trying to kill you. Bravo.”

“I’m glad you could work the defenses. I never spent much time here, and most of that trying to hide.”

“I’ve had thirty years to plan,” he said. “I am at your disposal.” Unexpectedly he put a fist to his breast and bowed his head over it. “Warden-Commander. Whatever I think of your sleeping habits, if by will or by skill I can serve you, I shall.”

“You know what to do.”

Loghain didn’t hesitate. He spoke so the principal figures of the armies could hear. “We’ve lost time and energy to the darkspawn play, but they’re on our ground now. Denerim’s walls are strong and her siege resistance is the best I could commission. First, you must understand that the darkspawn will not walk up and civilly ask directions. With an archdemon they have something resembling a mind. Do not underestimate it.”

Things she’d told him, and things he knew that she didn’t. Leif listened, ready to step in if he needed information. He didn’t seem like the kind to hide guesswork with bluster.

“Darkspawn can well up any place they can squeeze. Therefore, some of you will be patrolling the streets, watching for darkspawn from without or beneath. The mages have the best means to signal the alert.” He looked at her.

She nodded. “As for the archdemon, the Wardens will draw it out of your way.” Her sense of panic crouched back, waiting for new developments. “I expect to be occupied with the archdemon,” she said loudly. “Commanders, speak with Riordan and Loghain and myself about your priorities during the battle. Remember, darkspawn lieutenants will figure out who you are. Don’t let your guard down.”

She cleared her throat. “But that’s not all.” Intuition murmured hints to her, things she had always meant to say to her recruits and always felt like it was sappy. “Mages. Eamon’s men. Werewolves. Golems. Today we take the fight to the darkspawn. I know you have traveled far, through many trials. You’ve saved up your lives and your hopes, and those of your families. Here is where we decide whether those hopes stand or fall. Your forests, your thaigs, your towers, your castles – here we tell the archdemon that its will holds no sway. For your homelands, and for—your comrades.” She looked up at Loghain for the briefest moment. “Let us fight!”

The commanders closed in. Leif would need them to manage themselves while she dealt with the archdemon. Loghain presented a united front with her, couching his criticisms rarely and subtly, and in turn she encouraged him to apply resources where he thought it most sensible. Finally there was a break.

Loghain, who had handled everything to date with inexhaustible energy, now looked like he dreaded something. “Leif?”

“Loghain?”

“I have a…personal request. Should the archdemon finish me. I…ask you to protect Denerim. I’m not asking for political consideration from the Wardens. Only a hand against any further armies, Orlesian or otherwise.”

Was it a deathbed request? “I will,” she said quietly.

He seemed to lose tension. “Then my affairs are in order.”

“Your daughter?”

“Understands that I come home when the campaign is done, until the day I do not. It was always so.” He rolled his shoulders. “Let us be on our way.”

“We should go to the gate,” she said.

“You and I are not participating in the battle with the horde,” said Loghain. “Riordan, if you would. Our sole focus is the archdemon.”

“Correct,” said Riordan. “We are to take no chances until we bring it to ground.” He looked pale, but his voice was steady. “We should draw it to the highest tower. That should minimize the destruction to the city proper.”

Loghain nodded. “Will it come if we call?”

“I believe I can get its attention.”

Many of Leif’s people did stay at the gate. Sten, Oghren, Zevran, Shale, a wall and a questing knife. Their parting words were brief, though Zevran’s hug could power her for days.

The remainder of Leif’s party climbed to the Tower of Drakon together, listening to mad scuffles in streets and down alleys. The battle didn’t sound like a charge, it sounded like dozens of small infiltrations ending in violence.

Riordan made it to the tower’s peak first. The archdemon stood waiting. A dragon of ribbed red texture, a beast with a maw truly out of nightmare. Leif had seen it in dreams for a year. Now, finally. All the great words about sacrifice and valor receded. There was only what was necessary, and what she was ready to do. And those two things matched.

“Watch the stairs,” she said. “It will call reinforcements.”

“Noted,” said Morrigan. Did she look glowy? “Wynne, Leliana, perhaps you can offer remote support. I will mind the approach.”

“Let me go first,” said Riordan, “I have been listening to it longest. I wish to make a reply.” And, sword high, he charged.

The archdemon belched a gout of flame. Leif hurled a bolt of frost over the Warden’s shoulder, stifling the worst of it. He kept on. He leaped for the archdemon’s throat.

It swept him with one huge claw and rolled easily off the tower’s edge. Leif watched. It hurled Riordan down to a lower rooftop, but he gave it a horrific wing wound first.

It labored back up to the top. Loghain stood bound in crackling tension that her word could unleash.

“I’ve seen bigger,” Leif said critically.

Separately, so it couldn’t roast them both at once, they charged.

*

It was a dragon fight, worse than most. Loghain turned the archdemon around to keep it from harming reinforcements. Leliana and Wynne harried its back leg from afar. Leif’s werewolves chased darkspawn up the stairs and hurled them down again with Morrigan’s support…that didn’t matter. Leif wedged herself at the archdemon’s side and cast flurry after flurry of elemental attack while Loghain compelled its ugly head.

Something slashed at her back. No. Her forces had to deal with these other darkspawn. Panicking, she sprinted around the archdemon’s leg, waving her staff, trying to paralyze its maw, its anything.

It swiped at Loghain with one vast talon. No. No. Leif hurled herself forward, trying to paralyze the wrist. The archdemon looked up from its prey and dealt with her with a taloned forefoot.

It was enough distraction for Loghain to pierce its throat.

Leif fell, lying face up. She felt like something warm had been daubed on her shirt. She closed her eyes, just to rest them. Above her the archdemon shrieked and bubbled. Yes. This was important. Her stomach hurt.

“Leif. Leif.” There was a brief pause where Loghain went away, and things clanged on the stone floor. “Leif, you fool. A child could have chosen a better plan of attack.” Something pressed a white-hot pain down her sternum and into her gut. “Look at me.” He bayed the next words, “Wynne, get over here.” Then, quietly, “Open your eyes, woman.” But her lids were so heavy. “That isn’t a request. For the greater good, if that matters to you, and I know it does. Or for your friends…whether that includes me or not. Wynne!”

Leif floated somewhere, somewhere horrible. The pain was unbelievable. Did darkspawn claws get this bad? Loghain’s hands were on her stomach, holding in whatever was supposed to be there. Desperate for a sense of reality, she reached to clasp his hand. It was hot and slick.

“I require that hand,” he said. With a fumbling touch he moved her hand to grasp his wrist, steady and stable, then got his newly freed hand back to pressing on her wound. “There. Hold on, you fool. _Wynne!_ Whatever you think of me, I don’t enjoy watching my…friends, die. I’ve done too much of it. I know you can survive if you want to. You don’t like that I spend life. So stop throwing away your currency, you _hypocrite_.”

“Get out of the way.” It was Wynne, cold and commanding.

“Help her,” he snapped, and left Leif’s side.

Wynne’s hands were cool, though a second’s touch on Leif’s belly made them as bloody as Loghain’s. “The darkspawn are routed,” Wynne reported. Things started sliding into place inside. “Once you’re standing we should get to shelter. The Queen and soon to be King will want to see you.”

The pain was less. Leif sat up. Wynne’s hands were soaking crimson. So were Loghain’s.

Was all that hers? She had to say something to apologize. “Now I know what not to do on the next one,” she croaked.

But she was healed. Forcing her steps to steadiness, Leif followed Wynne and Loghain down the spiral stairs and through some kind of maze to a startlingly clean sitting room. Wynne put some finishing touches on Leif, then made for the door.

“Morrigan?” said Loghain.

“I haven’t seen her,” said Wynne, and left.

Leif reached toward Loghain’s arm. “Here. I know you didn’t come out unscathed.”

“Scathing is something I prefer to deal out. Besides, you didn’t shoot me even once this time.”

She set her hand on his bloodied forearm and sensed his injuries as best she could. “Maker. Why are you still standing?”

“There is still more to do.”

This wasn’t her specialty, and she already felt dizzy, but she repaired what she could. “Does it hurt less?”

“Yes. Thank you.” He looked at her torn shirt, whatever mess her face was. “Are you ready to face him?”

Oh. Alistair. “I don’t even know if he’ll come. But we did it. You knew how to work with the city and we did it." She caught herself, wondering how hard it would be. “At some point I’m going to believe that that’s worth one friendship.”

“You have time.”

Someone brought two basins of cool water. Leif sipped before she soiled hers with the sweat, blood, and soot on her hands and face.

With that settled, she sat on an armchair, forearms resting on her knees. Loghain mirrored it.

“We just ended the Blight,” he said.

“We did,” she said.

“What happens now?”

“We have an Order to rebuild.”

He cocked his head thoughtfully. “I’ve built things from ruins before. I had the help of a good woman.”

“No ideas,” she said sternly.

He cracked a smile. “No ideas, Warden-Commander, I married once and I mean that to be the end of it.” He gestured at his hair. “You have a piece of something. There.”

She slid her hand over and picked the poor lost leaf from her hair. It was greener than it had any business being. She tucked it right back up over her ear. “Did you ever think we would get along?”

“You were leading a cause that would result in civil war. What I thought is that I would enjoy executing you myself.”

“Oh. Yeah, I thought it’d be nice to freeze your face solid and club it ‘til it breaks.”

“Graphic.”

“It kept me going.”

“I underestimated you in every way.”

“I think I didn’t want to see anything of you but what you tried to do to me.”

“Will you take an Orlesian second for the new Wardens?”

She tensed. “What? Why would I?”

“To have an experienced Warden in command.”

“After everything I went through to get you? I want you for a lieutenant. If you’re willing.”

“I think I can make that serve.” She made a face at him. He chuckled. “Isn’t that what brought us here?”

“What should we say to the Queen?”

“The truth. The kingdom is saved. The Blight is stopped. Her father is, despite his best efforts, still alive.”

“Can you be a hero so soon after pissing off the entire bannorn?”

“When an army’s breathing down your neck, your standards for heroism are very immediate.” He smiled as if to himself. “Will they remember this above what I did to get here?”

“Well, I will, anyway.”

He nodded. “And I you.” He leaned back and they sat, armored, battered, partially clean, and victorious. The next battle was already lined up, and frankly, Leif felt ready for it.

*

### Ten years later…

The Warden-Commander’s study in Amaranthine was a cube of shelves of things from Leif’s travels around Thedas. The rack behind her big velvet chair held her favorite staves from her career.

“General,” she said when Loghain walked in.

“Commander. Is something wrong?”

She smoothed a thick parchment over the glassed collection of interesting leaves that formed her desk’s surface. “I’ve learned to hate saying yes to you.” She smiled for a moment. “More word from Orlais. Wardens are experiencing the Calling. All of them.”

He calculated. “Would an archdemon in Orlais cause that?”

“It didn’t for us in Ferelden. We have no other experience this age.”

“Only the one Blight to guide us. What we lack in quantity we may fear in quality.” He wasn’t even lingering over the nationality now. “What do you think might falsify the effect?”

Express the possibilities and divide them into manageable sub-problems. “We need to research this.”

“Agreed.”

She pushed the letter toward him. “You have my entire authorization. I’ll write to Weisshaupt.”

He touched his fingertips to the letter. “I’ll review this. There might be a clue behind it.”

“You see structures where anyone less would just be reading a letter.”

“That is what you hired me for,” he deadpanned.

“I hired you because you almost beat me to death with the arm I’d paralyzed.”

“True, but strategic analysis came included.”

Leif waited for him to look back up at her and said, “We’re going to help them.”

“Warden-Commander.” He set a fist on his breast and bowed over it, the old salute. “We always do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's how my Leif Surana DA:I world state came about.


End file.
